A Cross to Bear
by Reavera
Summary: For Carlisle, it was as though everything had fallen into place. With Edward and Bella away on their honeymoon, he turned his thoughts toward a peaceful future for him and his family. But one night, one tragedy, one terrible decision was all it took to destroy the peace that had seemed just within his fingertips, and he may never forgive himself for the choice he made that night.
1. Accident

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Twilight.

Author's Notes: Takes place while Edward and Bella are on their honeymoon, and I'll say it now, Bella does _not_ get pregnant. There will be absolutely no Renesmee. It's not that I hate her, as many people seem to. I'm just really bugged by the very notion that Jacob imprints on her. Seriously, I think it's cruel and unusual. He hates imprinting, and he hates vampires. So, he imprints on a half-vampire? Hahahaha – no.

Anyway, I'd like to say this is just a one-shot, but I know it's not. When I first started writing it, it was a stand alone idea. Nothing before or after. But now that I've finished the first chapter, I'm pretty sure there's going to be more.

* * *

Chapter One

Accident

* * *

If Carlisle Cullen's heart was still capable of beating, he'd have sworn it had stopped in his chest.

One would think that after more than three centuries as a vampire, he'd be ready for any eventuality. That his supernatural reflexes and strength would give him the necessary edge to react to any possible catastrophe. One would also think that as a doctor, the number of injuries, illnesses, and deaths he had seen would have hardened him. That nothing would shock or surprise him or leave him feeling helpless in the face of what was unalterable. One would think that by now he had learned acceptance, if absolutely nothing else.

And to a degree, it was true. Over the endless years, he'd treated men and women, ranging in all ages from elderly to children. He wouldn't lie, not even to himself; the children were always the worst. It pained him to watch them, more than anyone else, suffer the consequences of mortality. Even more so since Esme had become part of his life, part of his soul. Her pain over losing her child had never completely left her, and so he bore it as well. And so it was, on this day when he bore witness to some terrible accident, he experienced pain like no other, and no amount of time or training or acceptance made any difference.

By the look of her, he thought she was perhaps twelve or thirteen. Small for her age, there was no question about that, but his keen eyes registered the angles in face indicating that she had begun the departure from childhood. Also, within that vast mind of his where so many thoughts and calculations could be done simultaneously and almost without effort, he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing out at night, alone, walking down the sidewalk with neither parent nor guardian to see to her safety. Carlisle had no children in the truest sense of the word; yes, he had his adopted family, but they had come to him into his care as adults, and we already ( or had soon become) indestructible immortals. Never had he been entrusted with the welfare and safety of a tiny, helpless infant and been responsible for bringing it safely through the years of childhood, adolescence, and eventually into adulthood. But he knew in his heart (beating or not) that if this young thing had been his daughter, his responsibility, she _never_ would have been found walking down the street through the night, alone and helpless to whatever fate befell her. This horrible tragedy would never have occurred.

But he knew, even as he deliberated over the situation, that this line of thought was unimportant. This girl was not his daughter, not his responsibility, and though he knew it would likely take him another three centuries to accept it, he was in no way culpable for the fate that had befallen her.

This tragedy began on a summer night in the Valley of the Sun, also known as Phoenix, Arizona. Carlisle had come there at the invitation of Bella's mother, along with Esme, Alice, and Jasper, with the mission of helping Renee pack the remainder of the belongings Bella had left behind when she'd moved up to Forks. Renee knew that Esme was renovating a cottage for Edward and Bella to have as their own home when they came back from their honeymoon, and had decided it was time to let go of the idea that her daughter would come home someday. One phone call to Esme was all it had taken. It was, in Esme's opinion, the perfect chance to get to know the rest of Bella's family, and so they'd booked the flight and made the trip for that very weekend.

Renee was a charming and gracious hostess, and seemed so genuinely happy and eager to be getting know the 'in-laws' that she didn't even ask questions or seem to mind that the Cullen's had such a "busy" schedule while they were in town that they could only help with the packing after the sun had set. She talked endlessly with Esme and Alice, and on the third night of their visit Carlisle had decided to slip away to attend to some of his more _baser_ instincts.

He was so thirsty. He hadn't fed since before their flight, and he desperately needed to now. However, he was no familiar with Phoenix, or the wildlife surrounding it, and had climbed high atop a building to orient himself with the sprawling city surrounding him.

That was when he saw it. His sharp eyes were scanning the horizon, taking in the low mountains in the distance that would sure have an abundance of wildlife, when his gaze suddenly dropped lower to a darkened street some distance away. He couldn't say what had drawn his attention there, but once he looked, there was no chance of him looking away.

He saw the girl. Young, alone, and distracted by some dark, inner thoughts. And a second later, he saw the speeding car swerve around a corner ahead of her. The driver was going too fast, swerved, lost control. He saw the girl's face clearly in the bright headlights, her blue-green eyes wide with terror. He cried out in warning, knowing even as he did it that she was much too far away to hear, and much too slow, too _human_ , the avoid the collision in any case.

Over a thousand pounds of metal collided sickeningly with her fragile human body, and he was almost certain she had not survived. She couldn't have. But that thought did not stop him from running with all possible speed to her side. He ran so fast that in the back of his mind he wondered if even Edward would have beaten him there. He completely forgot about caution, about the very real possibility of witnesses. None of that mattered. If there was any chance, any at all, he would bear the consequences of his carelessness.

Once at her side, he let his medical training take over. By some miracle, his sensitive ears picked up a pulse, and ragged, pained breathing accompanied by a low gurgling noise. At least one rib had pierced her lung; he could hear it filling with blood. Even more blood surrounded her body, pooling out onto the sidewalk. Her left arm and leg were bent at odd angles. Indeed, it appeared the entire left side of her body had been crushed by the impact. He had to act fast, he knew. She would not survive if he did not. _She may not survive anyway_ …

In a second Esme was kneeling on the girl's other side.

"Alice," she said, by means of explanation. Of course, it was the only way Esme could have known. Carlisle saw her face was contorted with pain at the sight of the child's mangled body, and said only words of comfort that came to his mind.

"She's still alive." It was a redundant thing to say; he knew Esme could hear the girl's pulse as well as he could, but it was all he could think to offer her.

"Carlisle… oh, Carlisle…" she whispered in agony, looking as though she could weep. "What happened?"

"Struck by a car," he said quickly, "The driver – he didn't stop –"

"Poor dear," Esme whispered, her hands hovering close to the child but not touching her out of fear of injuring her further. "What can I do?"

His wife looked at him, her honey-colored eyes filled with certainty that he would save the child.

"She's lost a lot of blood," he said quickly. "Her lung is punctured. Most of her bones have been crushed…" He gave her a solemn look. "Darling, even if I if I had an operating room right here, and the best surgical team in the world assisting me…"

Esme blanched and looked down at the girl again, her face pinching in agony. "Carlisle, we can't just let her – I.. I won't let her –" She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, it was with pained determination. "We'll take her."

"Esme… she's so young," Carlisle said, a hitch in his voice. "She's practically a child –"

"Exactly," Esme said, her normally soft voice hard, though it cracked it pain. "Too young. _Way too young_. I won't just let her die. _I won't_."

She hissed the last two words, and Carlisle felt helpless. He had never, in all his centuries, dreamed of bringing a _child_ into this life. Even if she were awake for him to ask her what she wanted, he didn't even consider her old enough to make that kind of decision! But she was fading fast, he knew. She only had a brief time left. Either way, her life was going to end this night. And his wife looked as though she had no intention of leaving without the girl.

"Carlisle!" Esme hissed, jerking her head to the right. He heard them. Humans were approaching. He had mere seconds to make a decision. Take her to a human hospital where she would be lucky to survive, or…

Esme made the decision for him. As gently as possible, she lifted the child from the ground.

"I'm taking her," Esme said. "Carlisle, I can't – I can't –"

"I know, dear," he said, his heart heavy. "Come, we need to hurry."

In a blur they ran through the darkened streets, Esme carrying the girl while Carlisle led the way out of the city. They had so little time. They needed to get to the home they had rented for their stay, a comfortable house a few miles into the desert.

It took less than fifteen minutes for them to get there, but even that seemed like too much time. Carlisle could hear her pulse faltering, and he urged Esme to lay her on their bed, (nothing more than a prop for them), and he knelt beside the girl to look her over once more. She seemed so small, broken as she was. Her eyes were closed, but she still breathed, if only barely. Her face was so damaged he could barely even make out her features. Who was she? Why had she been out all alone? Why hadn't anyone been there to protect her?

"Carlisle, hurry!" Esme said, her voice pitched high with anxiety.

Carlisle sighed and took the child's one good hand.

"I'm sorry," he said low. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I can't even ask you if this is what you want. I'm sorry for the terrible suffering you are about to endure."

He could say nothing more, and there was no more time to waste in any case. Gently, he brushed the pale blood-streaked hair back from the girl's throat and, using only the barest pressure, sliced through her fragile skin with his razor-sharp fangs, right through the vein that would take his venom straight to her heart. Seconds later he could smell the venom spreading through her bloodstream, and there was nothing left for it now. The two vampires waited, unmoving. They listened to her heartbeat. It pumped sluggishly. One beat. Two. Three….

And then a howling, animalistic scream of unimaginable agony echoed through the desert.

This was Hell. It had to be. Her mother had always warned her about it's terrors. So had their priest. And she had done everything in her short life to avoid ending up there. Church. Prayer. Communion. Confession. But apparently none of that had mattered. It did not balance out the sin of her existence. And now her existence was nothing but pain. Pain and intense, unimaginable heat. She couldn't imagine any other explanation for it than eternal damnation. Over and over again it coursed through her, so hot and unbearable that she was sure her very soul would be destroyed.

Definitely Hell, then. She could hear screaming echoing around it. It was so pained and terrible that it could only belong to the damned. That must mean she wasn't alone here, although she couldn't see anything but darkness. Maybe some of the screams were her own. In fact, she was sure of it. She _should_ be screaming. Was definitely screaming inside herself. Begging for the end. Begging for… more than death. Because if she was in Hell, then she was already dead. So, she begged for oblivion. For there to be nothing at all. Anything to end this torture. She screamed for it, or thought she did. Hoped she did. Maybe if someone heard her, they'd end this. Erase her from existence as if she'd never been born. She never should have been anyway.

 _Let me die_ , she screamed inside herself. _Let it end_. _Please, merciful God, let me never have existed_.

But the pain didn't stop.

The fire blazed hotter. She begged for someone to make it stop, to not let her endure another moment of this. But there was nothing. Nothing existed outside of this. She had no concept of time. Of her own body. Of anything beyond this never-ending moment. It was just her and the fire.

Carlisle knelt beside the broken body of the child. Her shrieks echoed off the walls of their bedchamber, off the desert surrounding them, off the very insides of his skull. She screamed for death. Screamed for her mother. For God. For an end.

Carlisle would have wept if he were able. This was far from the first time he'd suffered through this, but it was by far the worst.

 _She's just a child_ , he thought. _Dear God_ , _just a child. Just a child._

He held her small hand in his, kept her from throwing herself from the bed as she thrashed, and let her screams reverberate through him. He would not leave, although after the first day he'd practically ordered Esme to do so. She was so soft and motherly, he could tell the child's pain was killing her. But he would stay. His pain didn't matter. He had even forgotten about his thirst. He wouldn't let the girl suffer alone.

"I'm here," he said, his voice low, filled with grief. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm here."

Eventually, time came to mean something again. This awareness did not bring relief with it, as she thought it might. The flames inside her did not decrease even the tiniest bit, but in some way she did not understand, she felt herself growing _stronger_. She could finally think through the pain. She became aware of her body again, and for the first time, she recognized the sound of her own heart, hammering wildly against her ribs. She did not understand how that could be possible; if she were dead, she would have no body, no heartbeat. Also, she could tell now with absolutely certainty that it was her mouth screaming. Could feel the strain the muscles in her mouth, the reverberating of her vocal cords. And when she had the sudden desire to see again, her eyes opened automatically, and she saw a vaulted wooden ceiling above her head. This confused her even further. Why would any part of Hell have a vaulted ceiling? And she could hear too, more clearly than ever before. Her own screams registered first, but there was something else. Something much quieter. A man's faint voice chanting the same words over and over again.

"I'm here… I'm here…"

She turned her head to the side and saw him kneeling on the floor beside her. A golden-haired stranger with his head bowed, his pale hand grasping hers.

"I'm here… I'm here…"

Who was he? He was so beautiful it stunned her. His golden hair, pale skin, angelic features… Was he an angel, then? No, there were no angels in Hell. But that meant…

Her priest's voice came back to her in her own mind. _Lucifer was the prince of angels_ , _the bearer of light_. _He placed his own beauty and perfection above his love for God_.

Lucifer. The most beautiful and perfect of God's creations. This man beside her was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. So far beyond the human concept of beauty that the word barely even applied to him.

And then he looked up at her.

His eyes were black. Completely pitch-black. Darker than a moonless night. Darker than the deepest pits of Hell. Bottomless pools of shadows and emptiness, a void that threatened to consume her very soul. Whoever this was, he was no man. He possessed the beauty of an angel, but his eyes were that of a demon, and even though he looked at her with empathy and concern, when she screamed again, it was not with pain, but with sheer terror.

"Nooo!"

The man – demon – appeared startled at her outburst. She tried to wrench her hand away from his, but he was so strong he didn't even seem to register her resistance.

"No! No!" she screamed, trying to fight the pain inside her long enough to flee from him. "Please, God, no!"

This time he did not miss her struggles, and he dropped her hand. Through the burning agony, she tried in desperation to get away from him. Much to her surprise, her body was strong, and although the fire almost paralyzed her with suffering, she managed to fling herself away from him.

She felt herself crash to the floor. It should have hurt, she knew, but her body reacted almost indifferently to the impact.

"Careful," the demon said, his voice so musical and angelic that she stopped screaming for a moment, wanting nothing more than to hear it again. "Don't hurt yourself."

A pair of arms lifted her from the floor as though she weighed nothing, and for the second time she found herself looking into the eyes of the devil.

"Let me go," she sobbed. "Please, God, save me!"

She tried to fight him, but the pain paralyzed her again as the heat reached a new peak. She shrieked with it, and the arms gently laid her back down on the bed.

"It'll be over soon," he promised gently, stroking back her hair. "I'm so sorry… so sorry."

Why was he apologizing? The devil wouldn't apologize. It was a trick. Had to be. Well, she wasn't falling for it!

With great effort, she clasped her hands together in front of her. She couldn't fight this monster on her own. She couldn't save herself. If this demon was going to drag her to Hell, she would not go down without a fight. She would appeal to God, beg him to forgive her, to save her from this demon.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, "O Divine Eternal Father," the began, her words punctuated with cries of agony. "In union with your Divine Son and the Holy Spirit, and through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I beg You to destroy the Power of your greatest enemy – the evil spirits. Cast them into the deepest recesses of Hell and chain them there forever! Take possession of your Kingdom which You have created and which is rightfully yours."

She paused to take a fortifying breath, her mind grappling for the remainder of the prayer, but the voice of the demon beside her interrupted her.

"Heavenly Father," he said gently, clasping his hand gently with hers again. Her eyes flew open and met his, wide with shock. "Give us the reign of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I repeat this prayer out of pure love for You with every beat of my heart and with every breath I take. Amen."

Silence fell between them. For the first time, she was able to resist the desire to scream, though the fire continued to burn her. There was no point anyway. It didn't ease her suffering one iota.

At length, the demon smiled. "I can understand how you might think me an evil spirit, come to take you to Hell, although I cannot imagine what a child such as yourself could have done to deserve to go there."

Her brow furrowed. "You're not… the devil?" she asked through her pained, labored breathing.

The man frowned. "No, I'm not," he said gently.

"A demon then?"

"No," he said again. "My name is Carlisle. Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

"Doctor?" she said, frowning. Every doctor she'd ever met looked like they were a hundred years old, whereas this man was young and beautiful. "You don't look like any doc I've ever been to."

"No, I suppose not," he said. "What is your name?"

"Gabrielle," she said, gasping as the heat razed her again and her body gave an involuntary thrash. "My mom calls me Gabbie."

"Gabbie," he said. "Gabrielle. After the arch-angel Gabriel?"

"Yeah," she said. "My mom picked it…" Another wave of torture. She clenched her teeth against it and asked, "Am I dead?"

His lips quirked a little bit. "No."

"Then what's wrong with me, doc?" she asked, gritting her teeth. "Why does everything hurt so much?"

Pain entered the doctor's eyes.

"You… you were in an accident," he said carefully. "Do you remember?"

She thought back, and the memory came to her almost instantly, though for some reason it seemed kind of blurry to her, which surprised her when her mind was so clear.

"There was a car," she said finally. "I didn't see it coming until… and it didn't stop."

Carlisle nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry, I wasn't fast enough to get to you. You were hit."

She gave a brief, stiff nod. "Is that why everything hurts? Cause I was hit by the car?"

Again, the pained look.

"Yes… and no," he said. You… you were badly hurt. You were dying." He fell silent for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes, as though he were remembering. "I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do."

"I don't understand," she said. "You said I wasn't dead."

"No, you're not dead," he affirmed. "But –" He suddenly fixed her with a very serious look. "Gabrielle, listen to me. To save your life, I _had_ to change you. Please understand. I had no choice. Your body – it was too broken. There was so much damage. If there had been any other way, I _swear_ –"

"What are you talking about?" she interrupted, her abnormally clear mind suddenly confused. "You changed me? In what way?"

He didn't answer, and she felt her heart jump with a burst of anxiety. And then it began to beat faster. And faster. And still faster. And with this, the pain began to change. On the plus side, she could feel it fading from the tips of her fingers and toes. On the downside, the fire in her throat changed. It was no longer the burning of scorching heat, but more of feeling of being… parched. An unbearable thirst, as though she'd been wandering in the desert for days without so much as a drop of water. And even worse than that, the fire inside her heart got – if possible – even hotter. She couldn't fathom it.

"Doc?" she said in panic as a new shriek of pain tore its way through her lips.

"Shh, it's okay," he said soothingly, brushing back the hair from her face. "It's okay, I promise it's almost over."

The fire was receding from her palms now, leaving them cool and pain free, but it was retreating to her heart, which blazed hotter than the core of the sun and raced so fast she could barely make out the individual beats anymore.

"It's _not_ okay," she cried in fear. "Something's wrong! My heart! It's going too fast!"

He made more shushing noises and smoothed her hair back again, but she was beyond being comforted. Renewed pain and terror consumed her, and she squeezed her eyes shut as ragged breathed escaped through her clenched teeth.

"It's okay, Gabrielle, I'm here," Carlisle said. "You're going to be fine. You'll be okay."

She didn't believe him. It felt as though her heart was going to explode in her chest; it was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird, and the heat now receded past her elbows and knees, adding more and more fuel to the scorching blaze in her chest. The pain was enough to break through all her control, and she screamed a high, keening wail as her back arched off the bed, as though the fire was lifting her in the air by her heart, and then she slumped back to the table.

It was like a battle inside her. Her heart was sprinting away from the onslaught of the molten fire, and both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed almost everything inside her. And her heart was racing to the end, the end she'd begged for since the beginning of this ordeal, and now she was unsure she was ready for.

"Carlisle!" she screamed helplessly. "Carlisle, please help me!"

"I'm here," he said hoarsely. "I'm right here. Just hold on. It's almost over. Hold on!" He gripped her hand tighter, so hard it should have pulverized her very bones, but her hand held its form, and even squeezed back.

The fire flexed and constricted, concentrating all its fury on the one burning organ left in her body. This attack was answered by a single, deep thud. Her heart stuttered. Twice. Then once more. And then there was nothing. Only silence.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay so I'm not completely sure where this is going. But I'll explain where it stems from. I'm fascinated by the concept of Jane. Of a very young vampire. I do not, however, want to write a story about Jane, who is so one dimensional (pain, suffering, doom and gloom), and I just don't see her changing. Also I just really want to start fresh with someone new, so I can do my own thing. I hope you guys like it. I'll see about writing more soon.


	2. The First Step

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Stephanie Meyer or the Twilight Saga.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews and the support. I just wanna make two comments. Firstly, I'm kinda playing this story by ear. It's a first for me, normally I have things planned out in advance, but I guess this is some kind of new writing tactic for me, so lets just see where it goes. And since it is a new tactic for me, if I fudge it up, let me know, so at least I know if it's working for me or not. And second, in Twilight newborn vampires are described as wild with thirst, barely noticing much else going on around them for the first-some-odd year of their new life. That sound REALLY BORING. At least from the perspective of writing a character. So I'm trying to find a nice middle-ground where Gabbie is crazed with thirst only sometimes, like when she is actually really thirsty, or when there's human blood around.

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Chapter Two

The First Step

* * *

For a moment, all that registered in Gabbie's mind was the complete and utter lack of _pain_. After the agony of the fire, it was a bliss beyond imagining, and it made her wonder if she truly was dead this time. The silence in her chest seemed to support that theory; the sound of her heartbeat, so loud and painful mere moments ago, was gone, leaving nothing in its wake but blissful, pain-free silence. If this was death, it wasn't so bad. It was by far better than the fire.

For several moments, she was content to float in pain-free bliss, but as the seconds wore on, a new kind of feeling was making its presence known. A kind of discomfort. A burning. Not like the fire, no, but still unpleasant, located in her throat, as though she were dying of thirst and trying to quench it by drinking in hot desert air.

And she was becoming aware of something else. A presence. She wasn't alone. The moment the realization occurred to her, her eyes were open, and within a fraction of a second, faster than should have been physically possible, she was off the bed and on her feet, crouched on the other side of the room. She found herself looking into the eyes of the doctor, the one who had held her hand and tried to comfort her as the fire had razed her body to ash. Within another fraction of a second, she stood straight, realizing there was no threat, and stood there looking around in wonder, content to gaze around the room.

This was the world as she had never seen it. Everything was so… _clear_. So defined and sharply detailed. She could see each fiber in the bedding on which she had burned alive. Each individual flake of dried blood that had bled from her body and soaked into those fibers. Each grain in the wood of the bed frame and on the floor beneath it. Even the air had a texture – each dust mote floated mesmerizingly before her eyes, highlighted by a soft rainbow of light from the lamps. Outside the bedroom window, she could clearly see the desert, even though it was late at night and they were far from the city. There were no street lamps, only the dim light of the stars and the waning moon, and yet she saw each detail as clearly as if she were looking through binoculars. She could see a small rodent sprinting across the desert as clearly as she could see the copperhead stalking it.

Again she became urgently aware of the other presence in the room, and the turned back to the doctor. Carlisle had not moved from his place on the floor. She suspected he did not want to frighten her, but to her surprise, fear was the furthest thing from her mind. Indeed, for several moments, she was simply mesmerized by the sight of him. Was this the same man who had knelt beside her mere moments ago? She tried to remember, but the memory was oddly dim, as though she were viewing it through a grimy window. Even through her pain, she had seen how beautiful he was, but now it was as though she were seeing him for the first time, with a million times more clarity. Even as she tried to figure it out, she lost her train of though when she saw the look in the doctor's eyes. He looked worried; even hesitant, as though he were wary of her. Was she still sick? Did he think she was going to relapse into… whatever she had been through?

Taking stock of herself, she saw no cause for his concern. She felt… wonderful. No, more than that. She felt strong. Alive. Powerful. As though she could run circles around this house all night and not even break a sweat. What she didn't understand is why he was there. Or, more specifically, why she was still here. She could tell that her heart was not beating; that would have alarmed her if she hadn't felt so strong and vital, but as matters stood it only confused her.

"Am I dead?" she asked suddenly, and then drew in a sharp breath at the sound of her own voice. The sound was as delicate and beautiful as windchimes in a gentle summer breeze, nothing like what it had been before.

Carlisle seemed to be waiting for the momentary shock to subside before he slowly got to his feet and answered her.

"No, Gabrielle, you're not dead. This is real. I'm real."

"Gabbie," she corrected automatically. "That's what everyone calls me."

"Gabbie," he affirmed.

She nodded, but then frowned. "I don't understand. I feel… different," she said hesitantly. "I'm not in pain anymore, but my heart… it isn't beating." As though to reaffirm this, she took her middle and index finger and pressed them to the large jugular vein on the side of her throat. There was nothing, no reassuring pulse under her fingertips or anywhere else in her body. "What's wrong with me, Doc?"

"I'll answer all your questions, Gabbie, I promise," he said soothingly. "But we can talk about that later. You must be thirsty."

The moment the word "thirsty" passed his lips, a fierce pain ripped up her throat, like scorching desert sun was burning from inside it. She clasped her hands around her throat, her eyes wide with shock as she fought to retain the sense of clarity she'd felt since she woke up.

"What's wrong with me?" she gasped. "What's happening?"

"Don't be afraid," Carlisle said. "My family came by earlier and left me something to help you… adjust. At least until we've had time to talk."

He walked toward the door and opened it, then gestured to her with his hand. "Come with me," he said gently.

She hesitated for only a moment, then followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs, and into a grand kitchen that easily could have held the entire house she'd grown up in. She wanted to admire it, but her entire focus was on Carlisle. He had walked over to a counter that had several jugs stacked on top of it. They were large, wide and round with a handle on the side, and a narrow opening at the top with an airtight seal. Carlisle took one from the counter and removed the sealed cap with a light popping noise, and time seemed to stop. The moment the smell hit her, that sweet, delicious, overwhelming smell, every sane though in her mind was overpowered by a consuming urge to _drink_. Whatever was in that jug smelled so incredible she _had_ to have it. She ripped it from the doctor's hands, brought it to her lips, and began to drink deeply. The liquid inside was cool, as though it had been removed from the refrigerator maybe a half-hour ago, but that did not slow her down. She swallowed gulp after gulp, until the jug was empty, and then she threw it to the floor and moved on to the next, then the next. She drank until there was nothing left, until she felt overly full and even a little sloshy on the inside, and while the fire in her throat had died down considerably, it was not completely abated.

"Why does my throat still burn?" she asked to no one in particular, but when Carlisle answered, she was surprised to realize he was still in the room with her. He'd been so silent, and she so preoccupied, she'd forgotten all about him.

"That's normal," he said. "It never goes away completely."

She stared at him. "I still don't understand what's happening to me. What was in those jugs?"

"Come with me, Gabbie," Carlisle said. "Let's go into the living room and talk."

Again she followed, and he led her to another extravagant room, this one decorated in light pastel colors and trimmed with decorative gold. She tried not to stare, but she couldn't help herself. It was like being in a small palace. She almost forgot about her questions for a moment, until Carlisle sat on a cream-colored sofa and gestured for her to do the same. She chose a plushy ottoman that was at the foot of a high-backed lounger, and fixed Carlisle with a focused stare.

For a moment he seemed at a loss for words, but then he smiled wryly. "You'd think, having had this conversation four times already, I'd be better at it, but each time has been different. Each person and each circumstance are different. It's hard to decide where to begin."

Gabbie felt a moment of apprehension, and she found she did not like the suspense. "Just tell me the truth, Doc. It's not like I don't know something is wrong."

Again Carlisle hesitated, but then nodded. "Very well, if that is what you prefer." He paused again. "If you'll recall, I told you you'd been in an accident. A car hit you, and you nearly died."

Gabbie nodded. She did remember. "And you said you had to change me somehow. To save me."

"Yes," Carlisle said, looking uncomfortable. "I didn't have a choice. You were unconscious. The entire left side of your body had been crushed. I couldn't save you. I couldn't even ask if you wanted to be changed, and I'm sorry for that."

"Sorry for what, Doc?" she asked, anxiety in her high voice. "What did you do to me?"

"Gabbie… I… I'm not human, Gabbie. And now, neither are you."

She looked at him blankly. "Not… human? Then what am I?" she asked. "Some kind of zombie?" That would explain the lack of a heartbeat.

"No, Gabbie," he said, looking for a moment as though he wanted to smile. "We're not zombies. We're vampires. I am. And now you are."

Dead silence rang throughout the room as she tried to wrap the word around her mind. Carlisle did not rush her. He waited, looking completely patient and at ease.

Finally, she whispered, "Vampires? Like honest to God blood drinking, soulless, undead servants of the Devil?"

"Yes to the blood-drinking," Carlisle said. "As for soulless, I don't know. I'd like to think not. And I have never 'served' anyone in my three-hundred-plus years, Devil or otherwise."

"But… I… I don't… vampires don't even exist!" she exclaimed. "Like werewolves, and zombies, and witches, it's all just nonsense! Stories! And… and…" Her eyes widened with shock. "Was that _blood_ I just drank?"

Carlisle nodded, and Gabbie wanted to be sick.

"No," Gabbie said. "It's not possible. It's _not_ ," she added more emphatically. "You're – you're crazy!" She jumped to her feet, but Carlisle rose at the same moment she did.

"I'm not lying to you, Gabrielle, and I'm not crazy," he said firmly, but still gently. "You know it's the truth. Your heart no longer beats. You've felt the unbearable thirst. And you feel stronger, don't you? Stronger than you ever have in your life."

Gabbie couldn't deny his words, but neither could she believe him. If she were a vampire, then she was one of the undead. From what little she'd ever read on the subject, her soul was forfeit now. Her mother would be devastated, she'd never speak to her again. Her mother – her mother!

"Oh no!" she gasped suddenly. "I need to go home! My mother… she must be so worried! Does she even know where I am? How long was I… sick?"

Carlisle looked pained.

"What?!" she snapped.

"Gabbie, that's not a good idea," he said. "You can't go home anymore. It isn't safe."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, panicking again. "I can't _not_ go home! My mother will be worried! She probably already is. I can't just not go to her. Oooooh, she's going to be so mad at me!"

She started to walk toward the door, but instantly Carlisle was between her and the door.

"Gabrielle, please, stop," he said urgently. "This is a bad idea. You could kill your mother."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?" she said, almost angrily. "I would _never_ hurt my mother. Even though she'll probably never forgive me if I've really become some kind of soulless, undead monster – but I don't care about that. I can't just disappear!"

"You wouldn't kill her on purpose, but you would do it all the same," Carlisle said. "Remember how you felt in the kitchen? With all that blood? You couldn't think anymore, could you? You fed, and you couldn't stop until it was gone, remember? Imagine feeling that way again, but instead of a jug, it's coming from a person. Coming from your mother."

Gabbie's mouth fell open in shock, but the image was in her mind now, and she felt another bout of flames licking their way up her throat, followed by completely horror at herself.

"No," she gasped, taking a step back from him. "No – I couldn't – I couldn't do that to her."

"You don't want to, of course," he said, the urgency leaving his voice once her realized he was getting through to her. "You don't want to hurt her. But you're still very new to this life. You won't be able to control yourself. Do you really want to put your mother in danger like that?"

She took another step back. "But… she's my mother," she said quietly, sadly. "What do I do? Let her think I'm missing? Or dead? She'll be heartbroken. I can't do that to her. Ever since my dad died… she wouldn't survive it."

She saw honest compassion on the doctor's face, a sharing of her pain. "Can't you think of something?" she begged quietly. "Please?"

For a moment he took on a deep, inward look. "I – I don't know, Gabrielle," he admitted honestly.

"Please try?" she pressed again in a small voice. "I'll do anything for my mom. Please."

Another moment of silence passed, then Carlisle nodded, if somewhat regretfully. "I'll try," he promised. "But I can't guarantee anything. As vampires, we normally let go of our human lives forever. I've never known one to try to… hold on."

Gabbie nodded, although she didn't completely understand. "Thank you, Doc."

Before he could reply, Gabbie was startled by a set of headlights flashing through the windows, and with a hiss she found herself on the other side of the room, crouched down defensively.

"Who is that?" she snarled.

Carlisle held his hands out in a gesture of peace.

"It's okay," he told her. "It's just my family. I asked them to meet you. My wife – Esme – was the one who convinced me to save you."

"Convinced you?"

"I had reservations at first," he admitted. "Because you're just a child."

Gabbie hissed indignantly. "I'm _not_ a child. I'm fourteen. I start high school in August."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows in surprised, but nodded in acknowledgement. "Of course," he said. "My apologies. Nevertheless, I thought you too young to be changed, and certainly without your knowledge or permission. I have done that once before, and I have felt the guilt of it ever since. But my wife is very gentle, very loving, and she refused to let you die."

She wanted to ask for more details, but she was more preoccupied with the people outside the house. "You said your wife was here. Who else? I hear others."

"Alice and Jasper," he said. "You could think of them as mine and Esme's children. Though we were not the one to change them, they have become part of our family as much as the others."

"Others? There are more coming?" she asked.

"Not tonight," he said. "Two of them are in Washington state, where we keep a permanent residence. And two others are honeymooning in the south Atlantic."

He watched her relax a little bit, then added gently, "Would you meet my family, Gabbie?" he asked.

"I have a choice?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yes," he said reassuringly. "I may have brought you into this life, but what you do from here on out is up to you. If you don't want to meet my family, or are not ready, I'll ask them to leave."

Gabbie stood up straight, then shrugged her narrow shoulders in a show of nonchalance, a pretense neither of them believed.

"I suppose," she said. "They're nice like you, right?"

"Of course," he said, but then he clarified. "You might find Jasper a little… intimidating to look at, but I promise he won't hurt you."

With another nod from her, he opened the front door and three other vampires walked gracefully into the room. Gabbie's eyes were immediately drawn to the tall, blonde male, and she looked at him in alarm. Almost instantly she understood what the doc had meant by 'intimidating'. He had a more dangerous look in his golden eyes than the doctor, as though he was waiting for her to make one wrong move, and by the looks of him she would not survive such a mistake. Almost every inch of his skin was crisscrossed with strange crescent marks, which looked oddly like scars, although she could not imagine what had given him such injuries. He wore them like battle scars, the same way her mother's brother did, a remnant from a war that had happened before she was born.

Gabbie was aware of the other two who had entered with Jasper, but she found it hard to tear her eyes from him, in the same way it would have been difficult to turn her back on a rattlesnake while she'd been human.

"Jasper," one of the women said in a gentle, reproachful tone.

"You're scaring her," the other added.

A moment later, the intense apprehension faded, and Gabbie felt strangely soothed, though there was no possible reason for her to relax her guard. Perhaps she simply trusted Carlisle to protect her from the other male vampire?

"Gabrielle," a soft female voice said. "Gabrielle, it's okay. We're not going to hurt you. My name is Esme."

Gabbie turned her eyes to her, and was surprised to see a woman that was in every way the polar opposite of Jasper. This vampire was small, though still taller than her, and her slender body appeared softer, more rounded than the others. Her heart-shaped face was surrounded by a cloud of caramel-colored hair, and her expression was one of such warmth and compassion that Gabbie felt a lump rise in her throat, though she was surprised when no tears came to her eyes.

"Gabbie," she said quietly, her voice almost rough with emotion. "Please call me Gabbie. That's what my family calls me."

Esme smiled gently. "Gabbie then." She started to walk forward, keeping her movements slow, her arms open and extended out toward her. In her peripherals, Gabbie saw Jasper shift protectively toward Esme, but a gesture from the second female held him back.

"It's okay," the other female said quietly. "She's not going to attack her."

Gabbie didn't understand, but Esme held her focus, and when the woman was close enough, Gabbie went willingly into her embrace, not understand how she could trust this woman so implicitly, but knowing without a doubt that she could. The moments Esme's gentle arms wrapped around her, Gabbie felt the crushing weight of everything that had happened, and the implications of her new life, come down on her. Her small body began to shake, and though she still did not cry tears, several wrenching sob-like sounds came from her throat. She wanted her mother, but Esme's gentleness reminded her so much of the woman she didn't know if she would ever see again that she let Esme comfort her. Esme made gentle soothing noises of understanding, stroking back Gabbie's white-blonde hair with a gentle hand as she kept one arms wrapped bracingly around her.

"There, there," she said when, after several long minutes, Gabbie's sobbing noises began to quiet, "I know this must all be very frightening for you, but everything will be okay. You'll see."

Gabbie nodded against her shoulder, though she could not imagine how anything would be okay ever again, and tried to smile at Esme when she pulled away and held her at arm's length.

"I want to see my mother," Gabbie found herself saying. "Carlisle said he'd try to find a way."

Unlike Carlisle, Esme did not look doubtful, but nodded encouragingly. "If you want to see your mother, we'll find a way," she said. "It might not be for a while, and we'll have to take many precautions, but if Carlisle said he'll try to find a way, then you can trust him completely."

And Gabbie believed her. Already she trusted the doctor and his wife, and looked around for the doc, but realized the living room was empty except for the two of them.

"Where did the others go?" she asked.

"Jasper and Alice are waiting for us in the kitchen," she said. "They though you might like some privacy."

"And the doc?" she added.

"He stepped out," Esme said. "He hasn't fed since before we found you, and he refused to leave your side during your transformation. He won't be gone long."

Gabbie nodded and found herself smiling as she said, "You know, you're not at all what I would expect a vampire to be like."

Esme laughed, the sound like the tinkling of a bell.

"I think I'll take that as a compliment," she said, "although you, my dear, look a fright." She said it gently, and showed Gabbie a tendril of her long hair, which she saw was crusted with blood. "I can't believe Carlisle didn't give you a chance to shower. Come on, I'll show you where the bathroom is and we'll clean you up."

Esme kept an arm around her shoulders, and Gabbie went with her willingly, back up the stairs and into another bedroom, this one as lavishly decorated as the rest of the house. Attached to it was a large bathroom, the kind Gabbie had only ever seen in the home remodeling magazines her mother likes to read. It had a shower, and a separate bathtub so large she knew she would be able to lay down in it without her feet touching the other end.

She looked around in wonder for a moment, then stopped abruptly when she caught sight of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that took up one entire wall. In the mirror was Esme, but next to her was a young girl Gabbie did not recognize. She was small, several inches shorter than Esme, and had a face so beautiful that it bore almost no resemblance to Gabbie's human face. Yes, it still had traces of childish-softness that Gabbie had no yet outgrown, and her lower lip was fuller than the top, and her eyes large and luminous, but all imperfection that had been present before were gone. Her skin was bone-white and free of all blemishes, and the skin so smooth it was beyond comprehension. She could not see one pore, or discoloration, not one spot of unevenness in the texture of her skin. But the most startling part, the part the drew her attention immediately, was her eyes. Before they had been pale gray, the color of slate, occasionally with hints of blue in the right light, but now they were the color of blood. A red so rich, so vibrant and disturbingly bright that she was repulsed.

"What's wrong with my eyes?" she asked. Esme and Carlisle didn't have eyes like that. Carlisle's had been completely black, and Esme's were the color of burnished gold, the way Jasper's had been.

"Don't worry, this is normal for a new vampire," Esme explained patiently. "You were just changed, and your body is still full of your own blood. Eventually they'll cool down, in about a year or so."

"And then they'll be like yours?" Gabbie asked.

"Well, that depends on you, really."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember how you said I'm not what you imagined for a vampire to be like?"

Gabbie nodded.

"That's very true," Esme said with a smile. "In fact, none of our family are. We're don't drink the blood of humans."

Gabbie frowned. "Then what do you drink?"

"We only feed on animals. As a result, our eyes are yellow instead of red. We're not sure why it causes an aesthetic difference, but if you choose to live as we do, your eyes will be the same as ours."

"And you can survive on animal blood?" Gabbie asked in surprise.

Esme nodded. "We call ourselves 'vegetarians'," she added with a smile. "Our little joke."

Gabbie smiled. "It doesn't sound so bad. Why kill people if you don't have to?"

"That's one way of looking at it. But I'll be honest Gabbie, it can be difficult for some vampires. Most, in fact. There's only one other family besides ours that we know of who abstain from drinking human blood."

Gabbie frowned at that, but Esme smiled and drew her away from the mirror. "You don't need to worry about that right now, little one. You have plenty of time to decide what you want. For now, a shower is what you need, and a set of fresh clothes. I promise, you'll feel better after."

Esme started the shower for her, and while the water was warming up, went to a linen closet near the door and pulled out a stack of plushy white towels. "Everything you'll need is here. And I'll have Alice find you something to wear. Her clothes should fit you."

She started to leave the bathroom, but stopped when Gabbie grabbed her hand. "You won't leave, right?" she said. "You won't leave me here?"

Esme gave her a reassuring smile and pulled her into a gentle hug. "I'll wait for you in the next room. If you need me, just call."

Gabbie nodded, and Esme left, closing the door behind her.

After she had left, Gabbie took another long look at herself in the mirror, swaying between pleasure and revulsion. Pleasure because she had never thought herself beautiful, and despite the eyes, now she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Revulsion because she looked nothing like herself, and never would again. Would her mother even recognize her like this, even if she did see her again? Would her uncle and her cousins? The thought of facing them like this terrified her. Beautiful, pale, unrecognizable, with blood-red eyes and streaks of dried blood in her hair, on her face, and down her neck. Her sweet, loving, gentle Catholic mother would think she was possessed by the Devil, or had sold her soul to him, and if Gabbie was honest, she would have thought the same thing. In fact, she still wasn't completely sure that isn't what had happened.

Forcing herself to turn away, she stripped the remainder of her clothes. Before the accident, she had left the house wearing a light blue dress with long sleeves and cut just at knee, something her mother had considered proper for a young girl. Now it was almost destroyed beyond recognition. It was ripped in several places, and almost completely soaked with dried blood. She pulled it off and let it drop to the floor, then kicked off the black Mary Janes that were thankfully still intact, pulled off her black stockings, and stepped beneath the spray of the shower.

The water was cool, and while that would have revolted her before (she hated the cold), she found the temperature did not bother her anymore. If was refreshing, and the hard spray of the water felt like nothing more than gentle feathers caressing their way over her skin. She did not close her eyes, but looked down at the floor of the shower, watching the water, now tinged pink with blood, flow down the drain. The human blood she'd lost so much of was gone now, just one more thing slipping away from her.

Giving herself a shake, she grabbed the shampoo and lathered it into her hair, and quickly rinsed it. It felt almost silly to use the conditioner. Her hair was so soft now it seemed a moot point, and the same with the body wash. Her skin was so smooth that it held no traces of the blood once the water had rinsed it off, but she washed herself anyway, more for the feeling of doing something normal and mundane than anything else.

When she was finished, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body and another around her hair before opening the door and stepping back into the bedroom.

Esme was there, just like she'd promised, and so was the other female vampire, the one who'd stopped Jasper from getting between her and Esme.

"Gabbie," Esme said with her sweet voice. "This is my daughter, Alice."

Alice was almost as small as she was, though clearly older, with short pixie-cut black hair and a smile on her delicate face that was so wide with excitement that it unnerved her.

"Hi, Gabbie," she said in a high soprano voice. "I'll admit, you took me by surprise, and that doesn't happen often. I just got one new sister, but even I never thought I'd get another one immediately after!"

Gabbie gave her a confused look, but Esme answered before she could say anything.

"Don't go getting ahead of yourself, Alice," Esme said, cautioning her. "Gabbie hasn't decided if she wants to stay with us yet. She might decide to go her own way."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Of course she'll stay," she said, as though that were a foregone conclusion.

Esme opened her mouth to say something, but Alice turned back to Gabbie and stood from the bed, holding out a set of clothes in her arms. "I brought you something new to wear. I wanted to put you in something more fashionable," she added, rolling her eyes at Esme, "but Esme though you'd want something simple and modest."

Gabbie took the clothes and look at them. Alice had given her a deep-blue, knee-length sweater dress with long sleeves, a long, white collared shirt that she supposed was supposed to be worn under it, and a pair of thick, pale-gray leggings.

"Thank you, Alice," Gabbie said, "it's beautiful."

Alice scrunched up her nose, but winked at Gabbie and said, "No problem. We're going to be good friends, you'll see." And with that, she left the room, her feet seeming to dance as they carried her across the floor.

After she'd gone, Esme also got to her feet. "You're looking much better," she said. "Oh, and Carlisle wanted me to give you this."

Esme reached into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a gold necklace chain that Gabbie immediately recognized.

"My necklace," she gasped, surprised she hadn't realized it was missing before now. Esme gave it to her, and she looked at it wistfully. It had a thin, delicate chain decorated with nothing but a tiny golden cross. Emotion welled up inside her and she looked at Esme. "My father gave this to me before he died. But why did Carlisle have it?"

"During your transformation you were thrashing around violently," she explained. "It's understandable. We've all been through the pain of it. Carlisle didn't want it to break while you – he took it off and kept it safe until it was over."

Gabbie set down the clothes Alice had given her and replaced to necklace around her throat, happy to have _something_ from before.

"It suits you," Esme said with a smile. "I'll leave you to get dressed. And Carlisle is back. When you're ready, would you like to join us in the kitchen?"

Gabbie nodded. "Okay."

Esme left, and Gabbie quickly dressed and pulled on her shoes before following her.

Down in the kitchen, she found Carlisle, Esme, Alice, and Jasper seated around an ornate kitchen table, and they looked up at her when she entered the room. She felt self-conscious when she saw Alice eyeing her still-damp hair, and pushed it back over her shoulder before she took a seat at the head of the table that seemed to have been reserved for her.

For a moment, there was only silence, and Gabbie had the sense that Carlisle was preparing himself to tell her something. She, however, found herself growing more anxious as the silence drew out, and finally blurted, "What up, Doc?"

Carlisle grinned for a second, then said, "Gabbie… As I've already mentioned, we don't live here in Phoenix," he said. "We have a house up in Washington, in a town called Forks."

She nodded. She remembered everything that had happened and been said to her with complete clarity since the moment she'd changed.

"So you know we're only here temporarily," he continued. "We're leaving at the end of the week."

Gabbie froze. "You're leaving me?" she asked, stunned.

"Well, that's what we wanted to talk to you about," he said. "If you'd like, you are welcome to come with us. We have a large house. There's more than enough room for you. In fact, once we're finished with Edward and Bella's cottage, we'll have another extra room, so –"

"Leave Phoenix?" she said. "What about my mom? Am I just supposed to leave her too?"

"It's not forever," Esme cut in with her gentle voice. "But if you come with us we'll be able to help you adjust more easily to this life. We'll be able to help you. If you choose to stay here –"

"I'll be alone," she said sullenly. The idea frightened her, as much as she hated to admit it. She was so strong now, and immortal; she couldn't imagine what she had to be afraid of. But the idea of being left behind with no one, and unable to go home, was more than she could bear. "I'll go with you," she said, although with no joy at the prospect. "And when I'm ready… when I can control myself, I'll come back."

Jasper gave Carlisle a look she didn't understand, and she felt another burst of irritation.

"What?" she asked, directing herself toward him for the first time.

He raised an eyebrow at Carlisle, who shrugged, then turned to fix her with his predatory gaze.

"Gabrielle – Gabbie – you do understand, don't you, that it could be a long time before you're in control enough to see your mother again?" he said. "I know my father promised her would try to help you, but I don't think you have a complete grasp of the situation."

"Well, then explain it to me," she said bluntly. "I'll never understand if nobody tells me."

"Very well. The first problem is that it will be a long time, and I mean years at minimum, before you gain enough self-control to be around humans," he reiterated. "If you were older, that wouldn't be as much of an issue, but you're fourteen. Years from now, even centuries from now, you'll still be fourteen. When you do eventually become controlled enough to see your mother again, you won't have aged a day."

Gabbie bit her lip, which held its form against her razor-sharp teeth. She did see the problem. "I didn't think of that," she admitted. Stuck forever at fourteen. The idea made her want to weep again. "I won't ever grow up," she said wretchedly. She supposed it wouldn't bother her so much if she looked like some of the other fourteen-year-olds she knew. Some of them we're already developed and could easily pass for eighteen. She, on the other hand, had always been what her mother called a 'late bloomer'. Sometimes she met people and they thought she was still twelve. And now she was stuck like this. Forever.

As she absorbed this fact, she heard Jasper talking to her again, and forced herself to focus on what he was saying. "When vampires are turned," he said, "it's generally understood that they leave their human life behind. No one tries to go back and pick up where they left off because it's impossible. You're changed now, and it will be extremely difficult to hide that fact from humans, especially from your family."

Gabbie thought of her mother, her loving mother, who had given birth to her and raised her, even after her father was gone. Who had stayed up with her late into the night when she was sick. Who had helped her with her homework, cooked her meals, made every birthday special. Fed her and clothed her despite not having much money. And now she would spend the rest of her life not knowing what had happened to her. Her mother wouldn't know if she was alive or dead. She would spend day after day, night after night, waiting, wondering, grieving, hoping… It made Gabbie want to scream and cry and destroy thing. She saw Jasper tense, as though he could read her intentions, and she tried to control herself.

"I… I can't," she said, her voice sounding strangled. "I just can't." She looked miserably at Carlisle. "Don't you understand? It would kill her. I can't do that. And you promised you'd help me."

"And I will keep my promise," he said. "Jasper just wants to make sure you understand the situation. How difficult it will be. And how, even if we do find a way, it will just be delaying the inevitable."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

It was Jasper who answered. "What he means is that even if we do find a way for you to see your mother again, it will only be temporary. Like I said, you won't age. She'll grow old, everyone else in your family will grow old, but you won't. Even if it were safe for us to bring her to you tonight, you would only have a few years with her, at most, before it would become too dangerous. We aren't supposed to let humans know vampires exist. We can't risk drawing attention to ourselves."

Again, Gabbie nodded, though she didn't understand how such strong immortal beings could be bound by such rules. She allowed the problem to stew inside her mind for a few minutes while the others waited, then said, "So, the way I see it, I need to learn to control myself around humans – or human blood – as soon as possible. Preferably within less than a year." From the corner of her eye, she saw Jasper giving her a skeptical look, but she ignored it, looking ahead at nothing in particular.

"Then I'll be able to see her again," she went on. "Even if it's only for a couple of years, it's better than just vanishing off the face of the earth. And then… well, I'll have to think of something. But I'll worry about that later."

"It might be best," Carlisle added, "if we come up with some excuse for your absence in the meantime."

Now Jasper was giving Carlisle a look that clearly said he couldn't believe his father was going along with this lunacy.

"Carlisle –"

"I know, Jasper," Carlisle said sadly. "But Gabbie has made her decision, and I promised to help her."

Jasper stared back and forth between the two of them, then cast an appealing glance at Alice and Esme. When neither of them said a word, he made a sound of disgust, then stood from the table and walked out of the kitchen. Alice gave Gabbie an apologetic look, then went out after him. A few moments later they heard the front door open and shut.

"Is he angry at me?" Gabbie couldn't help but asking. The last thing she wanted was that scary looking vampire mad at her.

"Not exactly angry at you," Carlisle said. "More likely angry at me, for going along with what he considers a risky and ludicrous plan."

That angered Gabbie. "Well, I'm sorry if I love my mother too much to just let her think I'm dead," she said heatedly. "Or missing. Is it so bad to want her to know I'm alive and well, even if we won't have much time left together?"

"Of course not, sweetheart," Esme said, taking her hand. "Don't worry about Jasper. This is just new to him. He's had a lot of past experience with newborn vampires, and he's never seen one try to hold on to their human life."

Gabbie frowned. "So he's upset because I'm… weird?"

Carlisle and Esme chuckled. "No, not weird," Carlisle said. "Just not what he expected."

Gabbie couldn't really imagine what he had expected, but decided to move on. "You were saying something about giving my mother some kind of excuse for my absence?" she prompted.

"Yes," Carlisle said. "Something to let her know that you're alive, even if she can't see you right now."

"Like… an illness?" Gabbie suggested.

"Maybe," Carlisle said. "It's a good option. By now you've been missing for three days."

"What about the scene of the accident?" Gabbie asked. "There had to have been blood everywhere."

Esme gave her a regretful look. "The scene was discovered by humans not long after we took you. We didn't have time to clean it up. The local police force has already cased the area."

"So… my mother knows I'm missing, and maybe knows I was the victim of a hit and run," Gabbie said. "Couldn't we just let her believe I'm in a hospital being treated for my injuries?"

"That might work," Carlisle said, "if you were still injured. But to look at you now, no one would know. And I can't imagine your mother wouldn't want to come visit you."

Gabbie frowned. "Could we make it look like I'm injured? Like some kind of special effects makeup or something?"

Carlisle raised an eyebrow at her. "Well… it's possible. I'm not sure how far makeup would get us. For as much blood as there was at the scene, we'd have to come up with some pretty convincing injuries."

Gabbie shrugged nonchalantly. "How hard can it be? The Hollywood people do it all the time."

Esme laughed at that, and even Carlisle couldn't help smiling.

"If we're going to go that route, then we'd need to put you in a hospital. Preferably a small, private hospital with an isolated ward, far away from the other patients."

"Right," Gabbie said. "Can't be too close to human blood." She thought for a moment. "What about my mother? When she visits, she'll be close to me. I'll be able to –" she stumbled over the words for a moment "– smell her."

"I would recommend not breathing at all in that scenario," Carlisle said.

Gabbie looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Excuse me? Did you say to _not breathe_?"

"You don't technically need to oxygen," Carlisle said. "We could probably hold our breath indefinitely if we had to. I think the only reason we continue to breathe is out of habit. That, and for our sense of smell."

For a moment Gabbie was speechless, and looked at Esme for confirmation. The older vampire nodded, and added wryly, "It also helps when we want to talk."

Gabbie couldn't help but grin at that. "Okay, so option one, we dress me up, do my makeup, put me in a hospital, and I just hold my breath while my mom visits me, and… then what? What about Washington?"

"Well, I _am_ a doctor," Carlisle said. "With many credentials, I might add. As your physician, I could have you moved to another hospital. Any hospital. For instance, one equipped for long term care for coma patients."

 _A coma_. Gabbie thought about the look on her mother's face if she found out she were in a coma. The idea made queasy.

"I don't think I want my mother to think I'm in a coma," she said. "I mean, I'd want to be able to talk to her. To call her, eventually, from this supposed hospital I'll be staying in."

That made Carlisle pause. "Yes, I can see why you'd want that," he said gently, "but keep in mind that there are no easy answers here. Short of some kind of horrible disease and an extended stay at the Center for Disease Control, I can't imagine any other alternative, and you mother would still worry about you just as much."

"Could we do that?" Gabbie asked. "In theory? It's better than a coma. At least I'd be awake to reassure her, even if it's only over the phone."

"That depends," Carlisle said. "If you mother knows that you were the victim in that hit-and-run, then that's what we'll have to go with. If not, then our options are more open."

"How do we find out?" Gabbie asked.

"I'll take care of that," Esme said, patting Gabbie's hand. "I'll stop by your house tomorrow night. Find out how much your mother knows."

"This would be a lot easier with Edward," Carlisle said ruefully.

"I can handle it," Esme said. "I'll take Alice with me."

Gabbie was confused by this exchange, but was distracted when, from the corner of her eye, she noticed outside the sky was beginning to lighten.

"Dawn is coming," she said, pointing it out to the other two. When they said nothing, she looked at them quizzically. "So… what do we do?" she asked. "Is there some kind of coffin room in the basement?"

To her surprise, both Carlisle and Esme began to laugh, the lighthearted sound slightly perturbing after the intensity of their conversation, but Gabbie couldn't help smiling at their mirth.

"What?" she asked, grinning at them in confusion. "What did I say?"

"Nothing, sweetheart," Esme said, her shoulders still shaking with mirth. "It's just… It's been so long since we've had a new vampire in the family."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no coffin room," Carlisle said. "The sun won't hurt us, I promise. That's just a myth."

"Then… do we just sleep in normal beds?" she asked.

"No. We don't sleep," he explained. "At all."

Gabbie was stunned. "At all?" she asked. "Like, not at all? Never? Ever?"

Carlisle nodded. "I haven't slept in three-hundred years, so yes, I'm going to say never ever."

Gabbie stared at him in disbelief. "And… the sun really won't hurt us?"

"No," Esme said. "Although we still can't go out in it. At least not where any humans can see us."

"Why?"

In answer, Esme took her hand and led her out through the glass back door out onto the veranda. Gabbie went with her trustingly, although as the sun crept further and further over the horizon, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Carlisle, who had followed them out, wrapped one strong arm bracingly around her shoulders, and Esme did the same thing from the other side. Slowly, bit by bit, the sun began to rise, and as the light of the dawn crept across the desert, inching closer toward them, Gabbie tensed. When she finally felt it on her skin, she winced, bracing herself for pain, or burning, or to burst into flames, anything like what she'd seen in the movies.

But there was no pain, nothing except a shimmering of bright lights being refracted and cast off her skin, as though she were some kind of human-shaped prism. Light shimmered and reflected off every surface around her. Startled, she looked at Esme and Carlisle. Their faces were, if possible, even more beautiful in the light. The sun glowed off them, making them blaze like glass torches. Gabbie knew that she must look the same as they did, and for the first time, she thought she had found something that proved they weren't soulless creatures, born for and of pain and darkness. There was beauty in this new life, if she was open to seeing it.


End file.
